


A promise to come home to he

by Flarenwrath



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: ALMOST Character Death, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Frottage, M/M, Slow Burn, Superstition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flarenwrath/pseuds/Flarenwrath
Summary: Fairshaw week day 4: SupersititionShaw learns about sea stalks and his feelings towards Flynn
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 22
Kudos: 110
Collections: Fairshaw Week 2020





	A promise to come home to he

**Author's Note:**

> Fairshaw week day 4: Superstition: Day I took a half day off work to write this and two hours were dedicated to writing this fucking song. Praise me for my lyrical genius.

“ _I fell in love with a fisherman’s son, his hair shone a fiery red~!_ ” Flynn sang loudly almost directly into Shaw’s ear as he helped the ex-pirate stumble down the alleyways of Boralus. Shaw had one arm hooked around the man’s waist and was supporting the bulk of his weight; the other hand was gripping Flynn’s forearm tightly so that it wouldn’t slip free from his place around his shoulders. Flynn’s feet were practically useless on their own, only managing to put one in front of the other with Shaw’s help. 

“ _We danced in the light of the midsummer ni~ight-!_ ,” Flynn continued in his caterwauling, his voice breaking at the high note, “ _-And I woke the next morn in his bed!_ ” 

Shaw let a small sigh slip out of his already pursed lips, although it could barely be overheard over Flynn’s own drunken giggling. “The sooner we get you to bed, the sooner the rest of Kul Tiras will be able to sleep,” he scolded, already regretting having allowed Flynn to drink himself into such a state. “You’re loud enough to wake the dead.”

“Oh come off it, mate! The people love my singing!” he yelled more than spoke, “You heard so yourself not a few moments ago in the bar-!” Flynn stopped suddenly in their steady, albeit stumbling, progress forward to turn and gesture in the direction of the bar for emphasis. Instead of having his desired effect the man nearly lost his footing, causing him to throw even more of his weight onto Shaw for support who himself barely adjusted in time before they both landed on their asses.

“Mhmm.” Shaw agreed noncommittally as he guided the stumbling man down a back alley and towards his home.

“ _But when tides arise, I sail for blue skies, I must head the call of the sea_ ,” Flynn continued, though thankfully his singing had dropped to a more appropriate volume for the time of night, “ _Though I gave him a Thrift as I left for the ship, a promise to come home to he~_.” His voice trailed off to a muttering, as Flynn started dozing off.

“That’s very pretty, you should tell me about it tomorrow,” Shaw said, trying to keep the conversation going. If Flynn passed out on him now, getting him the rest of the way would be infinitely more challenging. 

“Mmm’ could tell you now, if you want,” the ex-pirate slurred back suggestively as Shaw eased him into leaning against the heavy wooden frame of his door.

“That’s fine too,” Shaw humored, as he patted down Flynn’s pockets feeling for what should be a set of iron keys to unlock his front door and get him tucked away for the night.

“I like this instead, actually,” Shaw could practically hear the cheeky smirk in the drunken man’s voice even if he couldn’t see it in this light. And at first, he didn’t realize what Flynn was talking about, but as soon as he slid a hand into Flynn’s front pant pocket to grab ahold of the man’s key, Flynn’s own hand groped at the heavy fabric of his corset and pulled him closer into a sloppy kiss. 

His unkempt whiskers scratched at Shaw’s cheek as Flynn sucked on his bottom lip trying to slide his tongue in. Shaw scoffed and gently pushed him back against the frame with a thud, effectively breaking both the kiss and freeing himself from the pawing hand. He removed the man’s keys from his pocket with all the finesse of a pickpocket and unlocked the door. 

The key turned with a dull clang and Shaw wrapped an arm around Flynn’s waist once more to hoist him up and over the threshold. “Come on, we’re getting you in bed.”

“You gonna join me?” Flynn quipped back, surprisingly fast for how drunk he was. Shaw ignored him and instead helped him up the stairs. The two of them alternated between stumbling into the creaky staircase and the wall until they finally made it onto the top landing. From there Shaw could easily make out the shape of Flynn’s unmade bed from what little light was streaming in through his salt-fogged windows. Once there, it didn’t take more than a gentle nudge for Flynn to fall face first onto the mattress with a loud grunt.

It turned out that the last thing Flynn needed before fully succumbing to sleep was simply a place to be horizontal, as he was already softly snoring. Shaw looked down at him: Flynn’s hair had come undone at some point during their night out (although Shaw couldn’t quite remember it happening) and his shirt was untucked from his pants on one side. Unsure what else to do to make the man comfortable, he tugged Flynn’s boots off and placed them in military fashion at the foot of his bed.

This wasn’t the first time he had helped the ex-pirate into bed, but this was the first time Flynn had made such a bold pass at him and Shaw couldn’t help but brush his fingertips against his lips where Flynn’s had been only a few minutes before. The feeling sparked a chill through him. A rush that he hadn’t felt in so long that he had long since forgotten what the name of it was.

He stared, lips pursed, at Flynn’s sleeping form and vowed then to crush it before it became a problem.

~~~

Shaw hadn’t seen Flynn for a few weeks after that, in part because Flynn’s crew was _suddenly_ tasked with several reconnaissance trips to some islands previously identified as potentially having Azerite stores, but also because Shaw had made sure to make himself terribly busy on the rare times when Flynn’s ship was in port. When Flynn finally caught up to him outside of the Proudmoore Keep, he found himself rather impressed with the man’s skill.

“Oy, mate!” Flynn called out to him, waving his hand enthusiastically over his head from the bottom of the stone staircase. 

Despite the time between their last meeting, Shaw could still feel the whisperings of that little chill creep up the back of his neck. He pursed his lips into a thin line, almost completely hidden by his moustache, as he steeled himself against the man’s presence.

Flynn ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, until he was within arm’s reach. “Tae said she saw you heading this way and that I should hurry if I wanted to catch you!”, he said between soft pants, having clearly ran all the way here from the docks. “I’m glad I did, too! Haven’t seen you in a dogs age! How ya been?”

“Well…Busy,” he corrected himself, “Staying one step ahead of our enemies is a task that does not afford the luxury of dawdling.” Shaw stiffened his posture and did his best to put on the intimidating face of the Spymaster of the Alliance. 

Flynn, however, seemed unaffected and guffawed a laugh in response.

“Right, you are, mate!” he slapped a hand onto Shaw’s bicep in an affectionate way, “But considering the Horde isn’t here right now, think you could spare a moment to treat your favorite freelance ship captain to a ‘welcome home’ drink?”

The thought was tempting. All it would take is for him to say ‘yes’ and they could easily fall back into their semi-regular nights out together ever since they returned successful from their first mission in Zuldazar. But the feeling of that firm thumb pressing into Shaw’s arm was enough to get that chill to shock through him again. 

And he remembered what nearly happened the last time he let that feeling mean more to him than his job… The memory of Edwin Van-Cleef suddenly erupted in him and he jumped back from Flynn like he was burned by fire.

“Woah-!” Flynn exclaimed, raising his hands up quickly in a show of self-preservation, “Didn’t mean to startle ya, forgot you’re the jumpy kind when you’re on the job!” he flashed Shaw a bright-toothed smile in apologies.

“Flynn….” He started before the other man cut him off.

“Tell ya what, I’m only in port for the night and I still need to pick up a few more supplies but meet me at the Curious Octopus around nine. You should be done for the day then, right?” Shaw couldn’t get more than a ‘yes, but-‘ out before Flynn was waving him goodbye again and yelling out over the Proudmoore guards, “I might be a little late, though! Wait up, okay?”

It took Shaw an hour to realize that he wasn’t going to be able to focus on his work and to just give up for the rest of the day, another two to realize that he should address the problem directly instead of arranging their schedules indefinitely while he was still stationed in Kul Tiras, and another four to get up the strength to go through with it. But even with all his delays, he still managed to make it to their meeting place exactly as the minute hand struck nine on the bar’s grandfather clock.

Wearing civilian clothes, or as close to them as his wardrobe could manage, for once, he grabbed an out of the way table near the back corner, one with a window that overlooked the main road. When the barmaid came by, he ordered himself and Flynn a shot before running his fingers through his hair. A habit of stress that he broken himself out of in his late teens, but which had seemed to come back with a vengeance this afternoon.

//Moving forward, our interactions must be under professional terms exclusively//, he practiced mentally. Something clear cut that even Flynn couldn’t weasel a loop hole or two out of. Although as he downed the burning shot of vodka, he knew what he really meant to tell Flynn was //You’re a distraction I can’t afford//.

Like he had promised earlier, Flynn arrived nearly forty minutes past nine with a bag slung over his shoulder; he bounded into the bar and quickly spotted Shaw in the back, easily snaking his way through the busy workers and the drunk patrons to the table. 

“Ah you got one for me!” he exclaimed at the shot that had been waiting for him before throwing it back like it was water and slamming the glass to the table. “Ahhh-! That was kind of you, love!” he pulled back and fell into the chair across Shaw much like his rucksack had as he dropped to the ground.

All of Shaw’s mental rehearsing died when Flynn shot him one of those bright toothed smiles of his.

“Sorry about running late and all, I didn’t think it would be so hard to find this, but I needed it before I set off again,” Flynn reached down to his bag and pulled the cord loose before rummaging around inside.

“It’s fine,” Shaw reassured coolly, “I had something to speak with you about, anyways.”

“Oh yeah?” He had no right to look as excited as he did at that moment: as though Shaw’s attention alone was enough to clear the skies and calm the sailor’s seas. “Well let me go first. I’ve been waiting since we last met so I think I’m overdue.” Shaw wanted to say that so had he but managed to bite his tongue and let the man have his moment. Finally, Flynn pulled out the handful of weeds that was in his bag and placed them in the center of the table.

Shaw looked down at them in baffled silence, not sure exactly what was so important about some local river grass that Flynn went so far out of the way to acquire it. Flynn seemed to pick up on his confusion and offered some clarification.

“They’re Sea Stalks, sometimes called the Sea Thrift or Pink Thrift,” he said proudly.

“I can see that,” Shaw responded, waiting for Flynn to continue.

“You asked me to tell you about the song-“ Shaw narrowed his eyes in thought, trying to remember what Flynn could possibly be talking about, before the memory hit him. It was the flower in the song he had been singing that night before. And if Flynn remembered the singing, he might also remember-! 

”- and I figured the best way to explain it would be to show you!” Flynn continued, unaware of the chill that was threatening to consume Shaw whole. “You see, they’re used for medicines and such, but unlike other herbs you only really care about the stalks!” He pulled out a knife from his thigh and cut a few of the flowers free from the main bodies. 

“See the water from the stalk will keep the flower alive, even if they’re separated,” He bundled up the stalks and returned them to his bag, leaving only the delicate pink flowers on the table, “Sailors will give them to their lovers when they go to sea. If the ship sinks and the stalk takes on salt water, then the flower will die. So as long as the flower is alive, they know they don’t need to worry.”

Flynn looked up from the flowers then to Shaw, who must not have been hiding that chill very well, because he suddenly furrowed his brows and asked if he was okay. Shaw darted his eyes around the room and suddenly felt trapped. There were too many people here, too many witnesses, for him to be this exposed.

“It’s too loud in here, I want some air,” He said in a voice just loud enough for Flynn alone to hear.

“Yeah, mate, that’s fine. Let’s go outside, yeah?” Flynn stood up, picking up and pocketing the flowers in the process and followed Shaw’s quick pace out the back and into the near empty streets in the night air. 

Shaw took a deep inhale of the cold salty air and tried not to think too much about Flynn’s hand on his waist and the feel of his stubble scratching against his cheek as he pressed their lips together in that one hot, wet kiss.

“Are you okay, mate?” Flynn asked softly, making sure to approach him from the side, “I’ve heard you’ve been kinda stressed out lately, but I didn’t know what that meant until now. When was the last time you had a day off?” He reached out and placed his hand on Shaw’s shoulder, which only set off another spark down his spine. 

Shaw turned into his touch to face him, the worry on Flynn’s features all too clear to see. Although if his own men were talking to people like Flynn about him acting oddly, he could only imagine what his own face had been giving away the last few weeks. The fear and longing of wanting more of this man’s touch putting everything in him at odds.

Flynn bit his lower lip, as though considering something before cupping a hand to Shaw’s clean-shaven cheek. He took a half step forward before pressing their lips together once more. Where the first time the kiss had been all passion and liquid courage, this one was precise and cautious. 

At least this time Shaw saw it coming.

He allowed himself this one moment of weakness. Of indulgence.

He placed a hand on Flynn’s waist, holding him steady both from getting closer as much as from pulling away, before briefly closing his eyes and kissing back. Their lips pressed against each other’s as though whispering secrets neither of them could say out loud before Shaw pulled back. Flynn tried to lean in once more, but the hand at his waist kept him still. They locked eyes for a moment, and he could see the realization of what he was about to say hit Flynn before he even uttered the words.

“I can’t see you again.”

~~~

Flynn was a far better thief than Shaw had given him credit for. He didn’t even realize that the ex-pirate snuck those blasted flowers into his pocket until he was back in his room. The sudden softness of petals in his pocket had made him gasp, and when he pulled them out just looking at them was enough to make that chill spark back to life in his spine.

At first he debated tossing them overboard, disposing of the problem much like he had with Flynn himself, but found he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not twice in one evening, at least. And so they ended up sitting on his bedside nightstand.

It was almost a shock how quickly he started with his new daily ritual. He would wake in the morning and stare at the flowers, their little pink petals almost glowing in the dawn’s light that peaked in through the port hole of his ship quarters, then he would shave and dress for the day before acquiring his first of many cups of coffee. 

After that he would read through any reports that showed up from the night before, and work with Admiral Jes-Tereth and High Commander Wyrmbane on coordinating any upcoming joint operations. If time allowed, he would have a light lunch with Renzik who would update him on the personal lives of his operatives (Renne was engaged, he should remember to send her a card). Then as the evening came, he would meet with King Greymane and Grand Admiral Proudmoore in the Keep for dinner and strategy.

When he finally returned to his room, he would have a late-night espresso as he read through his intelligence reports and would write personal instructions where they were needed. The intel he always saved for last was the ship update of Middenwake and her crew. Before they would be signed by Capt. Fairwind, but since their last voyage began, it seems the first mate had taken over the duties. The official reason was that she was being prepared to take over a ship of her own one day, but he figured his last words with the ship’s captain might have something to do with it. 

As he laid in bed, he would find himself staring at those little pink flowers on his nightstand once more, their petals more of a salmon in the candlelight than the light blush of the morning light. His days had become anchored to the consistency of those flowers. 

He asked Jaina about them one evening during his nightly meetings at the Keep, under the guise of cultural curiosity, and she eagerly explained to him that once the flowers were cut they would never wilt or die, so long as the stalks were cared for: a very curious magical property which is what made them so highly prized for restorative drought components. 

Shaw hardly cared about their medical uses, as fascinating as it may be; instead all he could think of every night that he stared at those flowers was of Flynn in his little schooner somewhere in the Great Sea, wasting what rationed fresh water he had on a vase of flowerless stalks.

The fool.

It had been weeks of this new daily ritual before something, inevitably, tossed a wrench into his life again. The first sign was when he had no daily report from the Middenwake. Not an unusual event for most Alliance ships, but not one that the Middenwake would normally make. The initial rush of fear, however, was quickly put to rest when he returned to his quarters and saw the pink flowers sitting happily in their usual spot.

The next morning they greeted him the same, so when Admiral Jes-Tereth made the formal announcement to the fleet that all contact with the Middenwake was lost and that they were last seen fleeing from a Zandalari ship, he was once again able to take it with stride. 

He stayed awake far later than usual that night staring intensely at those petals. Analyzing every curve of them. Looking for even the smallest sign of damage or wilt. As his candle burnt out and he could no longer see them for anything more than their formless shape, he even prayed to whatever God of the Depths he heard those Kul Tiran sailors mutter to for the safe return of just one ship. Just this one time.

When he awoke the next morning, the flowers on his nightstand were withered and dead.

Shaw stared at them for a long time. So long, in fact that he was only to shake himself away when he heard a soft knock at his door.

“Mathias…?” A raspy female voice called out. Jes-Tereth was looking for him; he must have missed his appointment with her. He managed to pull himself out of his bed to answer the door, realizing distantly that he was only wearing his sleeping pants. When he greeted her, she looked him up and down in a show of obvious concern.

“Are you not feeling well, Spymaster?” she asked. He didn’t feel well, but he was at a loss of what to say.

“I’m fine. Just overslept, I think,” although the bags under his eyes were a clear giveaway that this was a blatant lie.

“Of course,” she answered. She was too kind to him. “I’ll let Halford know that we will be skipping our meeting today. Perhaps I can send Renzik to you a little earlier then, hmm?” She was far too kind to him.

Shaw could only manage a nod and closed the door with a soft click as she left. He walked over to the little washbowl and mirror where he would normally shave for the day, but was caught by his own reflection. There were bags under his eyes, more grey flecks in his hair than he could last recall, and the wrinkles near his mouth seemed to have firmly set in their presence now. 

When did he get so old? 

He bit his cheek and tried not to think about Flynn’s lips on his own. The soft touch of his hand on his cheek. The silent promise of love if only he had been willing to reach out and take it. He saw the tear roll down his cheek before he felt it, looking down at the droplet in the bowl as though it was some foreign creature.

When did he fall in love with Flynn Fairwind?

Another soft knock rapped at his door. The height of it told him it was Reznik but the bold opening of the door and letting themselves inside without waiting for a response confirmed it to him.

“Hey boss, the Admiral said to come check on you. What’s up?” the words were nonchalant and professional, but the deep serious tone of his voice was enough for him to know how serious he was.

“Captain Fairwind’s ship, the Middenwake…?” Shaw asked, barely glancing back as he said it, not ready to hear the answer.

“Suspected to be sunk,” Renzik answered with no pause for brevity, “She was caught in a bad position by some Horde ships, the Queen’s personal fleet, it would seem.”

“I see,” he turned back to stare at his unshaven face in the mirror. “Renzik, can you please cancel my meetings today? I fear Jes-Tereth is right and that I may be coming down with something.” He could see the movement of the goblin nod in response before letting himself out of his room once more.

Once the door clicked shut, Shaw let the tears overcome him.

~~~

To his credit, Shaw only took the single day off duty. However, that didn’t stop his peers from looking at him like he would suddenly fracture into a million little shards. And perhaps they were not wrong, even a week later he still felt like too strong of a breeze could very well do just that.

He had the dead flowers placed in a little glass bottle, as he found out later in town was customary. They now took up residence on his nightstand in place of their living counterparts. The woman running the shop told him that one should bottle them so as to not let the spirits of the dead escape out into unfamiliar waters or that it would help keep the spirits in whatever home it was they had died away from. It felt pagan, something wholly foreign to his upbringing in the Light, but at the same time did somewhat help fill that hole Flynn’s absence left gaping in him.

Today he was to accompany Lord Admiral Proudmoore in welcoming her brother Captain Tandred back from his fleet’s most recent victory over the Horde. It had been some small island not too far off the coast of Drustvar, if he remembered correctly, and while there might have been a number of Zandalari, they were no match to the superior fire power of the Kul Tiran navy. 

Tiffin’s Melody coming into port was always a grand event with many an excited child or partner waving aprons and rags at their safely returning loved ones, but with the pain of loss still fresh he was having a difficult time sharing in their pride and joy. Even watching Lady Jaina hike her robe up so she could run full sprint up the gangway and into her brother’s arms was a little more than he was willing to bear.

“Brother! You’re home!” she exclaimed, almost as joyously as the first time he returned to her from his long journey. He, in turn, swung her around like one would a little sister and not the most powerful frost mage on Azeroth.

“Yes, no thanks the Horde!” he answered with a booming laugh before depositing her delicately onto the deck. Shaw and Greymane followed her up the gangway, albeit in a more restrained fashion, “I’m not sure what you Mainlanders have done to them recently, but they’re angrier than a kicked bee’s nest!”

Greymane snorted loudly, like an annoyed dog. It seemed that his latest gambit in Nazmir was hardly a success, Shaw noted.

“But not only that. Guess what drowned rats we managed to fish up!” he bellowed another laugh and a few of his crew joined in with him. Shaw narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t used to being excluded from the joke. Just then, the doors to the captain’s quarters slammed open and a familiar ex-pirate with a heavy leather coat, low ponytail, and one too many belts came sauntering out into the midday sun.

“Glad you all could come welcome me back from the dead!” Flynn joked as he made his way down to the greeting company. Tandred, in turn, caught Flynn in a one arm bear hug and squeezed him tight.

“This fool let the Horde catch up to him. If it weren’t for us seeing his distress flare, the fool would be at the bottom of the sea by now!” Flynn laughed at that and said something about how Tandred would never let that happen to him and it was ‘all part of the plan’ or some lie, but Shaw didn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat pumping in his chest.

“Captain Fairwind, we thought your ship and your crew were lost. It seems that perhaps we were mistaken?” Genn said coolly.

“Oh, Aye. The poor girl was torn in two when they blew her mainsail out. We managed to get everyone overboard in the nick of time, not a single soul lost. Shame about her cargo, though…” Flynn said sheepishly as Tandred let him go, “Had a full hull of Azerite”

Genn huffed in annoyance once more but seemed satisfied that at least the crew were saved. “We will replace your ship, as it was lost in the King’s service, but losing the cargo will come out of your salary.” Flynn bemoaned about the loss of gold, but Shaw was already turning on his heel to return to the Wind’s Redemption.

He had no memory of the walk back. Nor did he remember entering his room and stripping off his armor. He only came to when he found himself staring at the little bottle of dead flowers. 

Flynn wasn’t dead. 

He was alive.

On some level he knew he should be feeling something… more, but he was still too stunned. Nothing had ever managed to slip by him before, certainly nothing of this kind of _importance_ , and yet somehow Flynn Fairwind managed to escape death without Spymaster Mathias Shaw knowing about it.

There was a creak on the floorboards outside his door and Shaw waited for the usual knock that would follow in its wake. This time the knock didn’t come. He waited for a moment longer, before grabbing a dagger and opening the door to see who the intruder was. 

There in front of him, hand raised but was clearly torn between knocking and leaving, was one Flynn Fairwind. From this close, he could see that the man’s skin was tanner than when they had last spoken, amounting to his extra time on deck when he was not an acting captain.

“I-ah- want to see you, but I didn’t know if you wanted to see me-“ he started, his nerves rolling off him in palpable waves. Shaw let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and swung the door open for the man to enter. Flynn closed the door behind him with a click as Shaw returned the dagger to its hiding spot.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Flynn teased, trying to lighten the tension between them.

“A ghost, perhaps,” Shaw mused softly, watching the captain closely. Flynn ‘hmm’ed in response and took a moment to look around Shaw’s private quarters. It was the first time, he realized, that the man had been in his room, despite the numerous times he had deposited Flynn into his own. Considering how few personal effects he owned, other than his clothes and gear, it did not take Flynn long to spot the bottle of dead Sea Stalk flowers on the table.

“You kept them,” he said plainly. It wasn’t clear to Shaw if Flynn was shocked by that or not.

“Yes.”

Flynn stepped over to his bedside to gently touch the glass of the bottle. He was silent for a moment before he turned back to Shaw. 

“So, did you think…?” he trailed off, neither of them wanting to say the words out loud.

“Yes,” Shaw said again, this time being the one to close the distance between the two of them. He desperately wrapped both arms around Flynn’s neck before pulling him in for a needy kiss. Flynn didn’t hesitate and in turn wrapped his arms around Shaw’s waist, one hand on his lower back and the other on his ass, squeezing him tightly and returning this kiss with as much passion as Shaw was giving him.

Quickly the kisses turned to nips, earning soft moans from the other. Shaw pulled free Flynn’s hair from its confines before burying his nose at the base of his ear and taking one long deep breath, savoring the briny, musky, burning rum scent that came with him. The spark that shot through him when he was close to Flynn ignited into an all-encompassing inferno like this and he gave into his base wants- he licked and nipped at Flynn’s neck and ear, tasting the salt that either came from the sea or from his sweat and earning a deep moan from the other man.

“Mathias,” Flynn gasped, but Shaw cut him off quick by catching his lips in another kiss as he slid the man’s coat from his shoulders and onto a heap on the floor. With the leather out of the way, Shaw’s hands were finally free to wander and feel the muscles beneath his shirt. 

This time when Flynn nipped and licked at him with his unshaven stubble brushing against his cheek, Shaw gave him what he wanted: he let Flynn’s tongue slip inside to slide against his own. He hadn’t allowed himself to be kissed like this in over twenty years, and the strangled whine that broke free from him was clear with its disuse.

The hand on Shaw’s ass pulled him forward and against Flynn’s own roll of his hips, grinding their hardening cocks against thighs and belts. With a soft growl of annoyance, Shaw made quick work removing Flynn’s multiple belts and sash, tossing them to the ground next to him. He parted their lips, taking a moment to appreciate the man’s blown out pupils and the flush on his cheeks and neck before he pushed him onto the bed. 

“Boots off, Captain,” he growled as he straddled Flynn’s hips.

“Yes’ir,” Flynn barely managed to gasp in response before Shaw was grinding down on him, rolling his hips down on Flynn’s cock in a clothed preface of what was to come. He heard boots hit the floor somewhere mixed in with all of Flynn’s moaning. Hands grabbed at Shaw’s hips and tried to control his movements, so Shaw snatched the offending wrists and pinned them onto the bed above Flynn’s head.

“You’re being a tease..!” Shaw’s captive begged, and for that Shaw caught his lips in another heated kiss. Teeth clinking against teeth in their passion and desire for more.

“And you deserve it,” he growled back with a nip to the man’s neck for good measure. But Flynn was right, and Shaw didn’t want to wait any more than he already had. He released his wrists, knowing that Flynn would keep them there for at least the time being, so he could trace his palms and fingers down his chest and abdomen, feeling the taught muscles he had only caught glimpses of in the past, until he could finally hook them under the man’s shirt. Another time, he might have enjoyed the luxury of a slow build, but not tonight. 

He quickly pulled the shirts above Flynn’s head before removing his own. While he tossed his shirt to the floor, those same deft fingers that snuck flowers into his pockets were already working on undoing his pants. Shaw lifted his hips, letting Flynn do most of the work of unlacing him until his cock sprung free. He saw the lust rush through the man and quickly stood up and out of reach of those greedy hands before they could cause any other delays.

Thankfully, Flynn seemed to get the hint and while Shaw stripped the last of his clothing off himself, so too did Flynn. He only got one brief glance at the tanned expanse of his chest before Flynn was pulling him back down onto the bed, back into those needy kisses and touch starved hands running up his back and down his thigh, encouraging him to settle back on top of his lap and resume their grinding. And he was only more than happy to do so.

The moment their cocks touched, they both gasped and groaned and the flame inside Shaw only grew that much more. He fell to his elbows, pinning Flynn underneath him as they both franticly thrust against one another. It turned out Flynn was holding himself together far better than Shaw, because he was the one who slid a hand down between them and gripped them both in a loose grip. The added friction was all Shaw needed to lose himself to the sensation.

Shaw pressed his lips to Flynn’s once more, the two of them mouthing those silent promises over and over again as they both rutted together until the pressure at the base of Shaw’s spine became too much to control and he came with a gasp into Flynn’s fingers. Flynn in turn only managed a shudder and a soft cry before he was cumming himself, shooting hot and thick onto the thin hairs covering his stomach.

“I love you.” The words were out there before he realized he had said them, but the fear in Shaw was quickly silenced by a tired “I love you, too” in return.

~~ end ~~


End file.
